Welcome to Night Vale
by awesomenesshasar
Summary: ONE-SHOT. Dipper and Mabel are spending the summer with their uncle Cecil in Night Vale. Rated T because I'm paranoid.


Clocks. Do they really exist? Does time exist? Are we all just trying too hard to control what we don't know? Or is something controlling how we react and the choices we make? Is there something that is so unstoppable that we know about, but can't comprehend, so we live in fear and denial without knowing it?

_Welcome to Night Vale._

* * *

Dear listeners, I just found out today that I have a niece and a nephew, even though I was sure that my mother is away in Colorado and any other relatives I have are dead, missing, or in the quarantine. So you can imagine my initial surprise when I found them today, standing at my doorstep with their luggage.

They're names are "Dipper" and "Mabel". As you can probably hear, I am making air quotes around their names. "Dipper" is fifteen years old, and is extremely paranoid, saying things like "Why is that man giving those cacti haircuts?" or "Why are there hooded figures in the dog park?" To which I replied, "There is no dog park."

This seemed to make him even more scared and paranoid, which I find very strange. He reminds me a bit of perfect Carlos...

Anyway, "Mabel" is fifteen also, and is very optimistic. She is very happy, and has commented on how my voice sounds smooth and fine, like red velvet cupcakes. Don't tell Dipper, but so far, she's my favorite.

Today I showed them around most of Night Vale, and told them important things, like "Don't get any wheat or wheat by-products", "Don't get any blood-stones", and most importantly, "Don't approach the hooded figures in the dog park.

Dipper was looking around nervously, and kept on fidgeting, while Mabel was skipping and acting very curious. Although I insist nothing is wrong, Dipper continues to be very paranoid. Mabel said she's making a sweater for me, which I find very endearing.

I'm not sure if I should introduce Carlos to them or not, but I think that they will all get along nicely.

Sorry for talking so much about my personal life. This isn't a "Listen to Cecil's Life" station, is it? No, no it's not.

Onto other news, the sheriff's secret police have declared that, due to the recent rampage of wheat and wheat by-products, there will be no school for the next three months, as most children were devoured, or are in the quarantine, and it is also the middle of summer. So remember, no school for those of you who survived.

They have also established that the dog park may actually exist, or it could be another shared dream. Either way, **don't go to the dog park.** Those of you who do, will most likely become part of the sacrificial ritual that comes every day at four o'clock that the hooded figures host. You know, the one with all the lightning, unholy shrieks, and someone yelling, _"I summon the Devil! Come to ME!" _in Latin.

Or, if you survive that, which you most likely won't, you will be executed in one of the abandoned mine shafts, which now have free WiFi. So, if you want to go onto the internet before you're executed, go to the dog park and try to survive. I'm sure it's worthwhile.

And now, Traffic.

* * *

I saw a blue car. Then a red one. And a green one. Soon, I saw all sorts of different colored cars, all of them different, but yet, all the same. They all seemed to become a blur, and then I had a moment of clarity.

The reason they were a blur with nothing to distinguish one from the other was because that's what life is. Everyone's lives are at first colorful and happy, but soon, you get tired, and try different ways of living. It works for a small amount of time, but soon, we get scared and nervous again, scrambling to find new ways to make our lives have meaning, when really, we're worth nothing in the grand scheme of things.

In fact, does life even have any meaning at all? What are we doing? Why are we even here? Is something playing with us to see what we'll do in our mundane, meaningless lives? Are we just here for entertainment and laughs? What is our purpose if we're all going to die in a short amount of time? What is the point of doing something good if everyone is eventually going to die?

The answer is probably that we have no purpose. Some greater force is probably just toying with us, and when it gets bored of one toy, it disposes of it. In fact, we're probably a dime a dozen. So, if you die, there is most likely someone who can replace you, so don't worry about dying. In fact, there may be someone out there who is just like me.

Maybe when you die, your life force goes into someone else, and you forget everything you have experienced in your past life. Maybe I have been used thousands of times before, and I'm completely clueless. Maybe we are actually all dead, and we continue to live in denial about it, and things like natural disasters are just people trying to pass us on to heaven, and the people who die in this world are set free to the spiritual realm they belong in.

This has been, Traffic.

* * *

As you all know, the secret festival is coming up soon. The secret festival is by no means, a secret. It is a time to gather around and meet people while people's names are picked out of a hat. Those people are chosen to tell the worst secrets about themselves to the secret police. If your secret is something like "I wet my pants in my backyard once" then your secret will be safe.

But if your secret is something like "I'm conspiring against the sheriffs secret police", you and several other people who have been lying and keeping terrible secrets will be pitted against each other in a fight to the death. And don't try to lie about it either, because they will have a hooded figure who will sense if you are lying, and send you to the unearthly realms of where all the trash goes.

So remember, if you tell the truth, you'll have no problem leaving alive.

And now, the weather.

* * *

Cecil hummed as he turned the microphone off and played the song for the weather called "The truth in the plastic." He turned around and faced the two other people in the room. "So," He said."What do you think?" He asked. Dipper raised an eyebrow while Mabel smiled.

"This is really what happens in Night Vale?" Dipper asked and looked around the room nervously.

Cecil nodded. "Yes. Isn't it just great? Oh, and tomorrow I'd like both of you to meet my boyfriend Carlos." He beamed, and sighed dreamily. Dipper and Mabel exchanged looks before replying at the same time, "This place is crazy.", and, "This place is great!". Dipper looked at Mabel with slight confusion. Before he could correct her, Cecil smiled.

"Well, I'm glad you like it here. I hope you too are as happy with our little town as I am." He replied, and the song soon ended, which made him turn back and continue reporting. Mabel smiled and kicked her legs back and forth in her chair, listening to Cecil eagerly, while Dipper sat fidgeting, nervously glancing at a large poster in the room that was purple with a shining eye and a silhouette of a windmill and a small cabin. On the poster in big, white letters were the words, SHERIFFS SECRET POLICE ARE WATCHING YOU.

The eye too easily reminded him of the eye that belonged to Bill, and even though Bill was gone, it made him nervous. He stared at the poster almost the entire time Cecil was reporting. He felt the hairs on the back of his hairs stand up. He felt as though he were being watched. When Cecil finally bid goodnight to his "Dear Listeners", Dipper jumped out of his seat, and eagerly opened the door.

Mabel and Cecil followed, and Dipper closed the door, though he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.

* * *

"So, are those the new kids who came here?" A man asked as he stared at the computer screen with interest. "Dibber and Maple was it?" He asked the hooded figure next to him. The figure responded with a screeching hiss. "Oh, my mistake." He mumbled.

He clicked his mouse, and it zoomed in. He made it in higher resolution, and looked at the twins' faces. "Hmm." He sighed as he stared at the kids. He puffed a cloud from his cigarette. The hooded figure screeched again. "So, our friends here are interested in mysteries, huh?" He said with a small smirk. The figure screeched once more in response.

His smirk widened. Sounds like they're searching for trouble, if you ask me. You know what I don't like about trouble makers. Old Telly was too much trouble, and well, we all know what happened to Telly, don't we?" He grinned. The figure screeched again. The man smiled and leaned back in his chair.

"Go round up the others." The figure screeched louder than ever before, and soon the room was half full of hooded figures. The man turned to face them all. "All right, settle down! Well, it seems there are new trouble makers in town. We can't have a repeat of Telly, can we?" The figures screeched angrily, as though just the word trouble made them feel pain.

"Good! Now, I will get a sample of their scent. After that, happy hunting!" He shouted to them, and they all screeched happily. "Alright, good! But, do not attack these two until I give you the signal. Anyone who does, will be used in the ritual this week."

The figures all screeched and the man sat back down in his chair. Soon the figures all left. Only the one who was with him before the meeting stood next to him.

"Looks like our friends are going to be having a little trouble."

* * *

A/N: This is most likely just gonna be a one-shot because I'm not sure if I'd be able to update this at all. So for now it's completed. I'm also not sure about the length of the broadcast. I guess it just feels too short. Oh well. If you liked this, please review!


End file.
